What Happens In Vegas
by kiwiosity
Summary: ZC: Boy hates girl, girl hates boy, boy and girl go on mission to the Vegas, boy and girl accidentally get married. Oops. Language.
1. introduction

—_  
how can you wake up__ with someone you don't love?_  
—

Cameron Morgan blinked her eyes open, catching a retina full of bright sunshine and promptly closing them again. Then, she readied herself, opened her eyes again. She was in a hotel room. _The_ hotel room. Well, that was good.

What wasn't good, however, was the state of the hotel room. Almost everything seemed to be out of place. The lamp was on the floor; the paintings had been unscrewed from their places on the wall and were lying on the second (otherwise relatively untouched) bed. Random articles of clothing were on the floor, and quickly, Cammie started panicking as she realized a warm, strong arm was wrapped around her waist.

"**SHIT**!" she cried out, removing the arm and looking at the second person lying in the bed with her. "Shitshitshit!"

Panicking some more, she fell off the bed, hitting the soft carpet with a thud. The second person stirred, his muscular arm reaching up to rub his eyes. A groggy voice then slurred, "Mmwhattimeisit?" His torso rose to a right angle, sitting up against headboard of the bed. "Cam?"

She still didn't have enough function to say anything besides swear words, so she replied with a small 'mmph' sound as she too rose to a sitting position on the floor. A piece of paper caught her eye and a finger of ice stroked her back as possibilities ran through her mind. With a trembling hand (partially because she was scared of what the paper might be, partially because she was so hung-over the paper seemed to move and double up) she reached out and grasped the thin sheet between her thumb and index finger.

She took one glance at it, jumped so high she stood, and said one word. "_Shit_."

"Oh, God, that's what I feel like too," Zachary Goode mumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Do you even remember what happened last night? Or was it one of those weird as hell Vegas stories—"

"Shut the fuck up," Cammie ordered Zach. She took in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tried to connect to the womanly side of herself. Everything felt okay, besides the pounding head, which—thank you Jesus—meant she hadn't had sex with Zach. Which meant... she looked around the hotel room again, to the clothes strewn everywhere.

She spotted two empty suitcases in the corner. Okay. But that didn't explain the white netting... She stepped closer to the white netting and picked it up, then dropped it like it was a dead rat. It was a veil. A wedding veil.

"Shit shit shit," Cammie said again, breathing in and out heavily and looking back at the paper in her hand. "Zach. Zach. Zach."

"Yeah yeah yeah?" He asked mockingly. "God, how much alcohol did I have last night, my head is on fucking fire or something—"

"Zach!" Cammie yelled. Zach winced visibly. He then looked up at Cammie, an unimpressed look on his face. She held up the piece of paper in her hand. "Do you remember what happened last night by any off chance?"

Zach thought about it.

And thought about it.

And thought about it.

Cammie shoved the sheet of paper in his face. "Well, just to refresh your memory, _this_ is what happened last night," Cammie growled. Then, she resumed her swearing, but decided to do so in Farsi.

Zach's gray eyes grew larger and larger until they looked almost comical. "That's really mean, Morgan," he finally said. "I mean, I know you hate my guts and all, but—"

Cammie tossed him a look that told him to _shut up, this isn't a joke._

Zach was silent for a few minutes, before licking his lips nervously and clearing his throat. "Uh, well, I guess we're married now."

* * *

**A/N:**  
- thoughts on the plot clichéd-ness aside? (you know somebody had to do the vegas thing.) (yeah, that's my excuse for being a creative desert.)  
- thanks to my lovely beta, DiVaGiRl13.  
- and that weird thing at the beginning is from 'leave before the lights come on' by the arctic monkeys. (of course.)

**END QUOTE:****  
**

nathan: well, i've got a strange tingling sensation in my anus  
_misfits_


	2. act i, scene i

the number of reviews received for the first chapter made me convulse. so, this chapter is for all of you lovelies (:

* * *

—  
_there's nothing in this world so sweet as love, and next to love the sweetest thing is hate!  
_—

**(two days earlier)**

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the look on Cammie's face was absolutely murderous. She was prepared to kick puppies and drown babies, was how malicious she looked.

Her ears had never accepted a more disastrous, distasteful, awful, erroneous, catastrophic, apocalyptic, terrible, abominable, horrible, atrocious, dreadful, fucked-up message in her life. Ever.

Which was seriously saying something. She had listened to people being brutally tortured while she could absolutely nothing sitting at her desk on the comms. She had bore through Macey ranting about Preston Winters and some guy named Nick who could possibly be a figment of Macey's imagination—especially since Macey's insanity breaking was long overdue—and survived. She had received death threats and ransom notes in sixteen different languages—but none were as bad as nine words that had just tumbled out of Edward Townsend's mouth.

"You and Zach are going on a mission together."

She felt like kicking his posh British ass back to his small English farmtown just for putting her and Zach in the same sentence without the words "are going to need to execute" in between. And she probably would've, had she been able to move.

Instead, a small squeak slipped past her lips, closely resembling the words, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What?" Townsend asked.

Cammie shook her head as the tall, dark, and handsome-but-that-so-didn't-make-up-for-the-fact-that-he-was-a-total-prick man next to her smirked. "Nothing," she said. Then, she added on, "Sir." Because even if Townsend had obviously been bashed on the head with a hammer as a child didn't mean she could disrespect him.

"Ah. Okay then. Anyway, it's in Las Vegas, Nevada—"

The smirk on Zach's mouth widened. Figured. Zach was a party boy. Cammie started wondering if Townsend had a death wish.

"—you'll be posing as a couple—"

Cammie struggled to remember how to kill someone with a pencil. Something about finding a point in their neck...

"—you'll be gathering information on a man named Nicholas Angel—"

And then you would stick the pointy end in and twist...

"—who's been suspected of killing uhh, a lot of operatives, or turning them into double agents—"

And if blood gets on you you're doing something wrong...

"—Miss Morgan, is something so interesting about my pencil?" Townsend's annoying British accent asked. Cammie looked up at him, tearing her hazel eyes away from the number 2 sitting on Townsend's pretentiously organized desk.

"No, sir," she answered.

Zach laughed. Cammie discreetly stepped on his toe with her heels. He winced, she smiled, and Townsend stood up. "You two are dismissed," he said, gesturing towards the door. "And your flight is tomorrow."

_note to self: get pancreatic cancer by tomorrow_

**(tomorrow)**

Zach had a lot of reasons to hate Cameron Morgan but the most recent one was the way she scared the shit out of him by appearing out of nowhere. "AHH," he cried out as he suddenly found himself staring down at a pair of light hazel eyes that were narrowed in disgust. Her thin lips curled up into a smirk. "Good morning, Morgan."

The smirk disappeared and was replaced by a straight line. "Let's go," she said curtly, striding quickly through the terminal.

They checked in, went through security, and went through the gates, and boarded the plane, all without saying a word. In fact, they remained wordless for the first three-minutes-and-twenty-eight-seconds of sitting in the superbly comfortable white leather first-class seats of the cabin (courtesy of the CIA: before the agency would book their operatives for economy or possibly not book them at all and tell them to sneak into the luggage area, but people kept hacking into the airlines' databases, so they eventually gave up and decided to have all their agents fly first class) until a flight attendant came around to their aisle and asked if they would like anything to drink.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Were her exact words.

"No," Cammie answered, her crystalline voice grating against Zach's ears. The flight attendant gave Zach a look, like, _What about for you, sir?_ and he opened his mouth to order something that would numb his brain, but Cammie cut him off. "Oh, nothing for him. He can't have alcohol. He's a bit... you know. Slow. And I wouldn't want him to get into any trouble on the plane. His urinary tract is out of his control."

Zach glared at Cammie, trying to send daggers.

The flight attendant left and Zach demanded, "What the hell?"

"What?"

"_What?_"

"What?"

"What?"

"For fuck's sakes, what?"

Zach dropped his voice down to a whisper. Maybe even quieter than that. "That's not part of our cover," Zach stated.

Cammie shrugged nonchalantly and Zach forced himself to remember that if he threw her out of the plane people would judge him. "It was improvisation," she replied. "Anyway, I know you, you were probably going to get some hard liquor with high alcohol content so you could get wasted on the job. Really, I was only looking out for you. And my reputation. But mainly you."

Zach tilted his head to the side. "Aw, do you really care about me that much?" He asked, layering on the charm. After all, she was totally hot, which was totally Zach's type.

"I was actually lying, I'm only looking out for my reputation. I just thought that maybe you would feel better if I said you. You are, after all, really egotistical and self-absorbed."

There was a pause as annoyance flared up inside of Zach's body. Then, he curtly said, "Bitch."

"Prick."

* * *

a few anonymous review replies:

GgirlLover - thank you for the lovely review (: as for any sort of divorce idea; well, you'll just have to wait and see.

Tunarh. the pony - tunarh, lovely to see you've changed species on me (is this why i haven't seen you on MSN in a while? hooves a bit hard to type with or something, i can see it, tunie, i really can.) pie? uh, like meat pie? yeah, v. v. aussie: like seb mantegna! and i'm happy to hear about DL's progression, and if you ever get stuck on titanic i'll send you a collage of leo's face and his amazing quotes.

xoxoblondeleftie - eye candy spy candy is no longer ): but a possible redo is in works: once i've finished the rest of my stories, of course. sorry ): i had an author's note up for a while, but i suppose you missed it. anyway, thanks for the lovely review (:

* * *

**A/N:**  
—if you haven't figure it out already, there will a _ton _swearing in this story. if it gets to the point where lots of people complain about it, i can switch it to M.  
—how have your first days of school been?  
—**NOMINATE IN THE GALLAGHER GIRLS FANFICTION AWARDS** (link on my profile!)

_i love you guys like you won't believe, really :D_  
~kiwi**  
**


	3. act i, scene ii

your reviews never cease to astound (: and if you're wondering, i asked about the swearing because for the intro thing i got a message telling me i should rate the story M, and since there wasn't any sort of harlequin-romance-novel-esque smut in the intro, nor will there ever be in any of my stories, i assumed it was about the swearing.

**i never do disclaimers, have you realized that: **if i owned gallagher girls zach would smoke cigarettes and ride a motorcycle à la james dean. if i owned the arctic monkeys and their amazing lyrics to "from the ritz to the rubble", i'd also own alex turner, and if i owned alex turner... let's not get into that.

* * *

—_  
last night, what we talked about_—_it made so much sense, but now the haze has ascended, and it don't make no sense anymore..._  
—

**(four hours later)**

"Just one drink."

"No."

"A little sip."

"No."

"A teensy taste of the Vegas."

"Zachary."

"Cameron."

"No."

"Miniscule. Look, it's tiny. It'll barely affect you."

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"One drink, then we're going back to the hotel room to do what we came here for."

"Hook up."

"Our mission, Zach."

"That too."

"One drink."

"One drink.

**(more than one drink later, the next morning)**

Zachary Goode woke up to swearing.

Surprisingly, he was used to this. His roommate always swore, especially when he forgot Bex's anniversary or birthday, etc. But this swearing was different. It was hushed, but quite loud at the same time. It made his ears throb with pain. And the voice, it was lighter, clearer, than Grant's. So obviously it was a girl. Unless Grant had inhaled helium again. Then that would make sense.

But he wasn't in his apartment. He was on a mission. That much he could remember, through continuous sharp pains in his brain and glaring light trying to blind him. A mission and... He gave up trying to remember.

"What time is it?" Zach asked to no one in particular, rolling over in the soft, warm bed he was laying in. Huh. His mouth was working funny. And a really familiar sour taste lingered. He scrunched up his nose and sat up, and a saw the back of a honey-blonde head. "Cam?"

Mission. Cammie. Things were coming together.

(He really had to work on his reaction time, Solomon would totally have his ass if he saw how Zach was acting. What if Cammie had been a terrorist? The possibilities were seriously high, especially with the way _she_ acted.)

"Shit."

More swearing. Zach was tempted to make a remark about cleaning her mouth that would somehow lead to an innuendo about giving head but his brain wasn't quite functioning up to its usual par.

Zach had, a while ago, with the help of Grant, decided that drinking was a lot like unprotected sex. It's great when you're doing it but afterwards you have all this shit happen to you and you're like, "Fuck. Shouldn't have done that, I guess." But by then it's too late. Always too late. Ah well. Hangovers/pregnancies didn't last forever. He could pop a Tylenol and get over it.

"Yeah, that's what I feel like too," Zach mumbled, gingerly touching his forehead. He tried to recall last night. He couldn't. He looked at Cammie again, who was staring a piece of paper with wide eyes. "Do you even remember what happened last night? Or was it one of those weird as hell Vegas stories where—"

"Shut the fuck up," Cammie ordered harshly. Zach winced, then slowly rolled out of bed as Cammie walked over to a pair of empty suitcases. His hair was sticking to his forehead. And in the air. And everywhere except where it should've been. He remembered a time when he would purposely screw up his hair to annoy his Headmaster. Now it just annoyed him.

"Shit shit shit," Cammie said quietly and quickly. Zach stared at her, vaguely realizing his shirt was one backwards. And inside out. "Zach Zach Zach."

"Yeah yeah yeah?" Zach asked, mocking her. Her clothes were all on the right way. Bitch. He rubbed his head again, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. "God, how much alcohol did I have last night, my head is on fucking fire or something—"

"_Zach!_" Cammie screamed. Zach cringed. Yeah, he got it, his name was Zach. Always will be, always has been. Well, except for when he was undercover. But that's different. "Do you remember what happened last night by any off chance?"

Zach contemplated not answering because he had _so_ asked that question like, five minutes ago but she had told him to shut the fuck up, which was like, offensive. But then he saw the severely distressed state of his mission partner and kicked into "cooperative" mode, opening his mouth to answer.

Then she cut him off and he started to hate her again. She shoved the paper she was clenching in one hand into his face and growled, "Well, just to refresh your memory, _this _is what happened last night."

Zach squinted, and suddenly, he was cold. It was a marriage document. Marriage. Document. Marriage. Marital. Married.

He blinked.

He stared.

He blinked again.

Finally, he concluded that Cammie was just fucking with him. "That's really mean, Morgan, I mean, I know you hate my guts and all, but—" Cammie cut him a scathing look.

A hand rose to scratch his neck awkwardly as he oggled the piece of paper, his brain going numb, but not in the good way. He opened his mouth, closed it again, the opened it. "Uhh," he stammered, scratching the back of his neck more urgently. Heat creeped up his neck, cancelling out the numbness. "I... I guess we're married now."

Married.

Fucking hell.

Shit.

_pleasebejoking_ Vegas. Mission. Cammie. Married. _you'rejokingyou'rejoking_

"No shit," Cammie muttered, running a hand through her hair. "Oh for fuck's sakes, close your mouth, you're attracting more flies than you usually do."

_"_That's not possible," Zach said. "Shit like this only happens in the movies and we're not in a movie oh please please please tell me we aren't in a movie but I don't know any other explanation to shit like this because shit like this is not real and it only happens in the movies—_"_

"Well, now I guess I know why you don't talk much_,_" he heard Cammie mutter under her breath.

"Hey—shit, man, if this is a joke—_"_

_"This isn't a joke, Zachary_—"

"But what the hell? We're not married—"

"Oh, I hope to God I'm not married, I'm only twenty and even if I were married I'd be married to _you_—"

"—we can't be married, right?"

"—oh God what will my mother say—_"_

"We're not telling her are we? Because no offense—_"_

"—if you're going to say something about my mother, don't bother, or I'll kill you—_"_

_"_—can we stop focusing on _you_ and start focusing on the fact that WE'RE MARRIED?"

"This is _your_ fault, by the—"

**BANG BANG BANG**

Cammie and Zach both shut up, which was probably a good thing because if they had gone on for much longer they would've torn each other's livers out. Cammie gave Zach a quick look, suddenly in spy mode, her hazel eyes wide and alert. "Please tell me those weren't gunshots," she said, not moving.

"Those weren't gunshots," Zach told her.

_"_Those were gunshots." Cammie stated, her jaw tightening.

"Yeah, I could've told you that," Zach scoffed, as Cammie strode towards the door, grabbing his sleeve as she passed him and dragging him towards the door. "What—where are we going?"

"Gunshots, Zach," Cammie sighed.

"I know, and they were ruining such a nice couple fight too."

"_We're not a couple_."

"The paper in your hand obviously says so otherwise. In big, bold, capital letters. Look, it's signed by Elvis!"

"I was under the impression that the CIA didn't hire morons but apparently I was dead wrong. Zach, we have to go investigate," Cammie said, grabbing a gun off of the table by the door before popping out of the hotel room. "We'll worry about _this_" —she waved the marriage document around—_ "_later." She stuffed it inside her pocket. "_COME ON, ZACHARY_."

Zach grumbled because he hadn't brushed his teeth yet, but obeyed anyway. After all, they _were_ married now.

* * *

**A/N:**  
- do you like how they act towards each other? love-hate. you know.  
- glad to hear school has been great! (sarcasm) how many of you watch TVD? did you watch the premiere? what did you think of it?  
- story recommendation: Changes by Cheyenne32. it's cammie/solomon. it's amazing. go read it.

_and remember, in case of emergency, stop, drop, and nominate your favorite authors and stories in the _**2010 GGFF AWARDS**_—link on my profile (:  
_~kiwi


	4. act i, scene iii

your reviews are um, staggeringly epic. sorry i haven't been replying and this update is so frigging late, school's a bitch. anyway, so i especially want to dedicate this chapter to _**GGirll**_ for making me laugh with her question "i wonder who's going to wear the pants in the relationship". made me wonder, too.

**i'm starting to have too much fun with disclaimers: **if i owned gallagher girls, cammie would be a gorgeous, problematic druggie with a fucked up life à la effy stonem. so it's probably a good thing i don't own gallagher girls.

* * *

—  
_studies have shown that the number one cause for divorce in america is marriage.  
_—

"Your foot is in my face," Zach muttered, agitation spilling through the tone of his voice.

Cammie inched herself forward, rolling her hazel eyes. "Gag me with a spoon," she yawned, pulling the phrase out of her 80's vocabulary bank. "We're in a fucking vent. It's not going to be comfortable."

The marriage document in her pocket dug into the soft skin of her stomach, reminding her of the situation she was in. So far, she had been able to push it to the back of her mind by focusing on getting to the vent above the lobby, but unfortunately, the little ass who was complaining about his face kept reminding her about it.

"So are you _absolutely sure_ that's a _real, authentic, non-bullshit_ marriage document," Zach asked. Cammie sucked in a deep breath. "Because like, uh, if you _are_ absolutely sure, then we're kind of fucked."

"Zachary," Cammie said. "I told you we would figure this out. Later."

"Are you not shitting yourself over this? How are you not shitting yourself over this? Did you take like six chill pills or something?"

Cammie suddenly stopped, and Zach's face smushed into her shoe. He signified this with a muffled groan. She ignored it and instead said, in a patronizing voice, "Did you just use the word _chill pill_ in front of me?"

"What if I did?" He replied, immaturely.

Cammie blinked. "Tell me in all honesty: who did you sleep with to get into the CIA?"

"Are you trying to be funny?" Zach retorted. "I didn't realize you possessed that gene."

"Can you hear my heart breaking?" Cammie snapped. "No? Yeah, that's because I don't care."

"Oh, you _kill me_."

Cammie inched herself forward again, vowing to herself that she wouldn't reply to the next undoubtedly unintelligent comment Zach would make next. And if she did reply, it would be in the form of a kick in his face.

Satisfied with this easily achievable goal, she smiled to herself. Suddenly, though, something happened that made Cammie break her previously set promise to herself.

**ring ring ring**

"Did you _seriously_ bring your phone to the vents?" Cammie asked incredulously, twisting around so she could see the complete idiocy of Zach's face. "Are you _trying_ to get us caught?"

"When it comes to high pitched, annoying sounds, trust me, it's not my cell phone that's going to get us caught," Zach muttered. Then, one second later, he added on, "It's your voice. Just to make that clear."

**ring ring ring**

"So are you going to answer it, or what?" Cammie hissed.

There was a sigh, then the sound of slight struggle, and then the ringing stopped, replaced by a "hello? Oh, hey, Courtney." Which caused Cammie to roll her eyes and rest her chin on the heel of her hand, waiting for Zach to finish his conversation.

Zach finally ended the conversation, and Cammie began to move again. Ten minutes later, they were over the lobby.

It was not a pretty sight.

Besides the dead body in the middle surrounded by a pool of thickening blood, the decor of the lobby was horrible. Cammie made a mental note to get the CIA to book her a better hotel next time. Or at least one without fake plants.

Zach popped up next to her suddenly. She flinched as he remarked, "Wow, this guy has a serious career ahead of him as a corpse on CSI. Look at his arms and the way they bend. It's like art."

"Do you wear protective gear when you train?"

Zach made a face. "Sorry for trying to lighten the mood," he muttered. Then, as Cammie snatched his cell phone from his hands, he yelled out, "Hey!"

The sound echoed quietly throughout the lobby, and for a second, everybody in the lobby seemed to freeze. Then, silently, Cammie flicked Zach's ear and held her breath. Then, she realized that everybody was freaking out too much in the lobby to notice anything anyway. She let out the sigh.

"What are you doing?" Zach whispered.

Cammie eyed a tall woman with cropped blonde hair who was staring the general direction of the grate. She didn't look like she belonged with the casino players who were nervously standing around, being held in by police officers and whatnot.

So, she snapped a photo, sent it to Jonas, and handed it back to Zach.

Then, she shifted down the vent until she found another vent, popped it open, and dropped out onto the soft carpet of an empty hallway, Zach close behind.

"Women move in such mysterious ways," he muttered, putting the phone back in his pocket, just in time for Cammie to yank his arm and drag him down the hall towards the window. "Hey! I know my ripped biceps seem to possess some sort of magnetic force that attracts all straight women between the age of 18 to 40, but try to control yours—"

He didn't get a chance to complete his sentence because Cammie jumped out of the window.

(Don't worry, it was only one floor.)

Reluctantly, he followed, wishing he had chosen a different profession which allowed him to use the typical means of transport every once in a while. When his feet touched the hard, gray cement of the street, he looked at Cammie. "And what are we doing now?" He asked, confused.

"We," she said, grabbing his arm again, her nails digging into his skin as she forced him along the pavement, "are getting a divorce."

* * *

**a/n:  
**—this wasn't that good of a chapter. sorry, darlings, but this was a filler :/  
—the next chapter will be...better? because they're going to various chapels and whatnot :D and then SOON, soon, there will be ZC of the kind where they're not fighting. i have the scene all planned out. maybe the first ten reviews will get a bit of the scene. (yeah, i've written it already.) maybe the first fifteen (if i get that many.) maybe i should stop being such a review whore (or as asha says, a review PIMP)  
—so...who do YOU think is going to wear the pants in this relationship? ;)

**quote:**  
wanna know why it's called a baseball bat? because it's not awesome enough to be called a baseball BATMAN._  
_


	5. act i, scene iv

**disclaimer: **if i owned gallagher girls, zach and macey would've hooked up already. several times. dang, disclaimers are the best parts of writing.

* * *

—  
_hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_.  
—

"Let's think about this strategically," Cammie said, looking at Zach, who was looking down the road and counting how many chapels there were. "We couldn't have gone more than two blocks away, because we somehow ended back up in our hotel room."

"Do you have a mint?" Zach asked, squinting in the sunlight.

Cammie sighed. "Please. A little less ADHD, a little more focus." But Zach wasn't really paying attention to her because he was distracted by her back pocket. On any other day, the whole 'back pocket' thing would just be an excuse for checking out her toned, sculpted, ass, but not on this day. Without warning, he reached behind her and pulled something out of the pocket. "Holy shit, Goode, do you want to die at an early age?" Cammie snapped.

Zach ignored her and unfolded the photo in his hands. "How'd you miss this?" He asked Cammie, showing her the photo, which depicted the two of them, with happy, drunken smiles stretched across their faces, arm in arm in front of a building. Cammie was wearing a veil. Zach had a bowtie around his head.

"I dunno, when I woke up I wasn't wearing these," Cammie replied, scrunching up her nose and gesturing towards her jeans. "We're burning that picture after we're done, by the way."

Zach gave her a look. "You weren't wearing pants this morning? How did_ I _miss that?"

"Actually now that I think about it if I killed you I'd be a widow. Lose-lose," Cammie mused, looking around the street they were standing on. Then, she pointed out a small white building which greatly resembled the building in the picture. In fact, it _was_ the building in the picture. "Sweet. Let's go." She strode off across the road, leaving Zach gaping.

"Hey—hey, Cammie, I could've sworn you just used a slang word in your vernacular. Should I have videotaped that? Is that an everyday occurrence? Can you say 'radical, bro' for me really quick?" Zach called, jogging after her.

Cammie reached the double doors of the chapel, pulling the handles. It didn't work. She pushed them. They were locked. Cammie groaned. "_Seriously?_" She cried, kicking the door ferociously. Suddenly, it swung open. She smiled happily and sauntered in, before realizing that something was really, really wrong.

"Oh, God, we got married in this dump?" Zach said. "Damn. I always wanted to get married on a beach. During the summer. Because the ocean smells really good, and everyone looks photogenic on a beach."

"Zach," Cammie sighed. "I don't think this place was like this when we were here." She looked at the photo, of the two of them standing in front of the building. The double doors were wide open, and she could make out a row of benches and a stained glass window. She tucked the photo back into her pocket and glanced around at the ruins of what was previously a chapel.

The windows had been shattered, the pews had been smashed, the floor was covered in a fine layer of dust and debris. Bullet holes lined one wall, and a nasty-looking blade stuck out of another.

But, before Cammie could say anything and before Zach could make any profoundly astute observations, the sound of heels made them both freeze. Cammie dropped down behind half a pew, patting her jacket, then cursing herself because she had forgotten her weapon.

_so unprepared what kind of spy are you? is zachary rubbing off on you_—_ohgodno_

Meanwhile, Zach crept behind some columns, trying to see where the footsteps were coming from. Two seconds later, he got his answer—as the tall blonde woman from the hotel strode down the middle of the chapel, a cell phone to her ear.

"Yeah, he's taken care of," she said, and Zach's heart stopped at the voice.

He knew that voice.

He peeked out from behind a column to make an urgent facial expression at Cammie, who responded with a confused look.

The blonde woman continued, "Well, you might have a little mess to clean up." A smirk formed on her lips. "No, I'm not being funny." Suddenly, she stopped moving, looking directly at the upturned pew Cammie was hiding behind. "Gotta go, Nicky. Hey, I can call you whatever I want."

Zach rolled out and moved behind a column closer to Cammie, and attempted to make a "GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE" hand motion. She just got even more confused, and the blonde woman hung up and reached inside her jacket, her other hand reaching out, a single finger touching the pew. It toppled over and Zach could see Cammie spring up into a defensive pose.

"Who the hell are you?" The blonde woman asked.

Zach wondered if he should Cammie. But no, she could take care of herself—he felt relief flood through his chest as he heard the sound of a gun cocking and Cammie's voice replying, "I could say the same for you."

"FBI?" The blonde woman questioned.

There was the sound of Cammie swallowing. "N - Yeah."

Zach dared himself to take a look, and once he did, he realized that Cammie might need a little help—something she would probably appreciate, considering how she had a gun pointed in her face, while she herself was unarmed. Zach rolled out from behind the column silently.

"Ah," the blonde woman said. "Well, could you be a sweetheart and pass along a little message for them?"

She pulled the trigger, but Zach pushed her to the ground and wrestled the firearm away from her. The bullet lodged itself into the ceiling of the chapel as Zach tossed the gun to Cammie before pulling out his own.

Blondie got back up, a huge crease on her forehead, her mouth a little open. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, looking between the two spies. "Zach?"

And Cammie looked at Zach and Zach looked at Cammie before looking back at the blonde woman, who had pushed pass the double doors was climbing into a nondescript black car. They ran outside, but it was too late. The car was zooming away and getting lost in the Vegas traffic.

Cammie said a loud cuss word.

Zach put his gun back into its holster before clapping his hands and saying, "Well! That was exhilarating. That woman was at the hotel, so we should probably look into her. Let's go back and call up Jonas and—" he began to walk off, but Cammie seized his arm and held him back.

"Not so fast, Zachary," Cammie said. "How did that girl know your name?"

Zach made a face. Then he shrugged. "Probably a lucky guess or something." He tried to start walking again, but Cammie's grip tightened.

"Zach," Cammie ordered, her voice commanding and kind of scary.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and braced himself. "Well, she's uh, she's kind of...She's my ex-girlfriend." Then he broke free from Cammie's hand and walked across the street hurriedly so Cammie wouldn't attack him.

Faintly, he heard her shout, "She's your _**WHAT**_?_"_

_

* * *

_happy thanksgiving! tell me what you're thankful for? i'm thankful for friends, family, & electricity.

was this a cliffhanger? hmm, i can't tell whenever i think i've used a literary device. because it's not exactly a cliffhanger, nobody's on a cliff...and it's not quite suspense. huh. whatever. did i tell you guys i saw the midnight premiere of harry potter? MADE. MY. LIFE. NO SHIT. DOBBY'S DEATH=TEARS, STREAMING DOWN FACE

i know what this is. it's a "and the plot thickens..." moment. plot twist? okay, i obviously don't know what i'm talking about. i'll stop rambling here.

-kiwi

post-script: okay. so i know i said i would give out the first zammie hints to the reviewers, but i did a word count and it was basically the whole chapter. and i couldn't find a good portion to give out? so just right here i'll tell you: zach discovers something about cammie that cammie hasn't revealed to a lot of people before. actually it's two somethings.

/soundsdirtybuttrustmeitsnot


	6. act ii, scene i

**disclaimer: **if i owned gallagher girls, zach would have gray (grey?) eyes. not "deep emerald green" or "sparkling sapphire blue" or "sharp hazel" or something. he'd have "cold, stormy gray/grey eyes". and they'd be unfathomable! i also don't own the lyrics of "no you girls" by franz ferdinand. but alex kapranos is so fucking cool, if i ever met him i'd instantly get ten times awesomer (hahahaha, don't start your "10 times 0 is still 0" jokes)

**A/N: **i think i overuse the word incredulous. also this is a filler.

* * *

—_  
no you girls never know how you make a boy feel_  
—

"Well, obviously, she's changed since I last saw her," Zach said, trying to act nonchalant. "She was brunette, and didn't wear big, scary black trench coats. And I don't think she knew how to use a gun. I dunno. That topic never came up in our conversation, strangely."

The two spies were sitting in a diner, finally putting some food into their hungover bodies.

"What's her name?" Cammie asked, swabbing a french fry in some ketchup. She was so famished, she was willing to temporarily forget her complete dislike for ketchup and other tomato products. "How long did you two date?"

"Uh, five, six months?" Zach guessed. "And her name is Kelli. Actually, that might've been an alias now that I think about it. Kelli Brown."

Cammie choked on her french fry. "Kelli?" She asked, her voice incredulous. "You actually went out with a girl named Kelli. How did she spell it? With a _y _or an _ie_?"

"With an _i_. Just an _i_." Zach replied, looking at Cammie. "Why are you so judgey-judgey? It's like, all you do is judge people. Or are you purposely judgemental to me? Because that's discrimination, Cam, and just because her name was spelled with an _i_ doesn't mean she's a bad person!"

Cammie raised her eyebrow. Zach blinked as he realized what he had just said.

"Well, I mean, obviously, there are some exceptions," he muttered, poking at his coleslaw. "And your name's _Cammie_ so I don't even know if you're allowed to make comments like that."

She rolled her eyes. Then, after swallowing another fry, she continued to question Zach. "Why didn't you run a background check on her when you started to date her?"

Zach stared at her like she had eighteen arms and a cerulean tail. He frowned. Then he opened his mouth to speak. Then he closed it again, and frowned some more. Finally, he said, "I dunno, do _you_ run a background check on all of your boyfriends? Or girlfriends, I support same-sex marriage."

Now Cammie stared at him, and he realized what she was trying to convey.

"Holy shit, Cam, you are just so _weird_," Zach expressed, his voice incredulous. "How did your boyfriends—slash girlfriends—feel about that?"

Cammie rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn't _tell_ them, obviously," she grumbled. "Zach, we work in the business of danger. People want to kill us. People _can_ kill us. People can concoct very thorough plans _to_ kill us."

"You're unbelievable," Zach remarked.

"But don't you see, Zachary?" Cammie asked, her voice taking on that I-am-so-more-intelligent-than-you charm again. "_You_ didn't bother to check out Kelli. And now she's some BAMF assassin who has a boyfriend named Nicky."

"Okay. He's not necessarily her boyfriend. Or even a boy. I know girls named Nikki. He could be her boss, her brother, her cousin -"

"Zach, the relationship status between _Kelli_ and _Nicky_ is not important right now," Cammie interrupted.

"You started it," Zach pouted immaturely.

Cam sighed. "I can't believe I'm married to you."

"Oh, you're bringing _that_ up again."

Cammie was silent for a moment, much to Zach's relief, before she suddenly jumped up, hit her knee on the table, swore loudly, and gasped, her eyes widened. "SHIT. SHIT. NO. NO. OH, **GOD** NO." Zach looked at her, confused at her outburst. It took about a minute, but then Cammie calmed down and slammed her fist on the diner table. "Your girlfriend—" she growled.

"I'm not following."

"How are we going to get an annulment if the chapel we got married in is destroyed with the person who married us probably dead and stuffed in a wall somewhere?" Cammie said, sounding troubled. "Oh, no, then we'll have to go to court to get the annulment and then it'll be on our records and anybody with Clearance Level 4 or higher could access that. _AHHH._"

She slid back into the booth and put her head down on the table.

Zach said, "Wow. FML."

Cammie raised her head and glared at him. "Profound, Zachary, really profound."

—

**(five hours later, in a different hotel because our lovely spy couple had to check out of that hotel and move to another to avoid Zach's psycho assassin ex-girlfriend)**

"Thanks Jonas," Cammie said as she pushed through the door of her and Zach's new room. (She had strongly advocated to get two separate rooms but Townsend decided to go all English-bitch on her and said no.) "Yeah. Send her file to my phone when you can." She hung up.

"So, do you really perform background checks on all your boyfriends?" Zach asked, not looking up from the room service menu from his place on the bed. He was shirtless, and in pajama pants. Lazy ass. "By the way, look at this. You can get smoked salmon with a decoration of basil delivered to your room. Of course I'm kind of allergic to seafood but it's a life experience." He reached for a glass of water sitting on the bedside table.

Cammie ignored that and told him, "Her name is Piper Harding and she works in a group called the Circle. Where the hell is you shirt?"

Zach choked on his sip of water and started coughing loudly. "The Circle?"

"Yes, Zach, the Circle. It's like a square but with no corners."

"I know what a circle is—"

"Could've fooled me."

"Have you never heard of the Circle before?" Zach asked, turning serious.

Cammie frowned. "No. What time is it?" She checked her watch and yawned. Then, she brushed her teeth and slipped into her pajamas, which was a rather unsexy combination of a Vancouver tourist shirt that was two sizes too large and sweat shorts. She looked around the hotel room before realizing something far more serious than geometric shapes. "Zachary, where's the second bed?"

"There isn't one," Zach answered casually. "I was hoping you could sleep on the couch. Or in the bathtub. Or outside." He went back to looking at the menu. "Full-body massage with complimentary cucumber facial. Yeah. I should get a cucumber facial, my combination skin is really—_**HEY!**_"

Cammie was dragging him by the ear off the bed.

"Thanks, you crazy bitch!" Zach cried out, rubbing his ear. "Was that necessary? No it was not. In fact, it was very _un_necessary. Nice PJ's, by the way. I say that facetiously."

"Sorry, but I think I deserve to sleep in the bed more than you do," Cammie said, climbing and settling in comfortably. "And at least I have a shirt. You half-nudist freak."

"You mean half-naked sexy man, of course," Zach corrected. "And Cam, you totally owe me one. I pushed Kelli—Piper out of the way today, remember? You could have gotten shot, had it not been for me."

"If it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here in the first place," Cammie deadpanned.

They stared at each other for a while.

"There's always room for both of us," Zach winked and suggested cheerily as Cam sent him daggers with her sharp hazel eyes. "Look, I'm not sleeping in the bathtub. I had enough of that in high school. And I'm not sleeping outside."

"But it's your natural habitat." Cammie pointed out.

This type of banter went on for a while.

Finally, ten minutes later, Zach was snuggled under the covers, a smirk on his face. However, the smirk disappeared when he turned his head to face a pile of pillows. "Is this demarcation zone really necessary."

Cammie's muffled voice replied, "I don't want to contract something."

"Babe, the only diseases I have are charm, sophistication, and wit."

"If, when you say those words, you're referring to your revolting personality, I'd have to disagree. Because I'm pretty sure you have syphilis."

"You know, Cam, sometimes I think the stick up your ass has a stick up its ass."

"Go to sleep."

* * *

**A/N:** you know, i know this chapter sucked but you have to give me credit: i didn't even make it to the month mark this time. :D must be the holiday spirit.

the circle is based off the circle of cavan. if that isn't obvious.

so i'm looking at the people who have this alerted [69, and you perverts think i'm joking but i'm not] and my heart is swelling. let's aim for somewhere between 170-180 reviews? like...175. or 177. hah. zach totally called cammie babe. i should stop writing at 3 in the morning.

remember to vote in the polls for the gallagher girls fanfiction awards - link on my profile.

and just to make this astronomical author's note even longer, i leave you with a question: what's your favorite song right now?

- drey

(don't make fun of my name.)


	7. intermission

**A/N: **Yes, I'm a super sucky author. Yes, this isn't an update. Yes, this is an excerpt. No, this excerpt will not appear in the next chapter (funnily enough.) I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. BUT. I figured this could ease the waiting for a while as I write the new chapter (which is in progress - I swear!) and also inform you of a few updates I have, because despite how it may seem, I've actually been pretty active on here for the past few weeks.

Here's the excerpt (it's longer than a usual excerpt - about half a chapter? Because I'm trying to get back on you're good side. Okay?) Enjoy, yo.

* * *

**knock knock knocknockknockknock**

Zach tossed the room service magazine aside and rolled off the bed, walking slowly over to the door as the knocking came faster and louder. He sighed out loud, wondering why Cammie was so impatient, and why the hotel room was so large.

He finally made it to the door, and unlocked the door before pulling it over.

Cammie stood in front of him, a pained expression on her face, a hand over her shoulder. He stared in shock as he realized that the material under her hand was red. "You're...bleeding," he stated slowly.

Cammie rolled her eyes characteristically. "I'm so glad that my complete _genius_ of a partner can make such _astute_ observations in such _little_ time," she muttered through gritted teeth, as she stumbled inside and leaned against the wall as Zach let the door slam shut. "Any other observations you want to make while you're at it? Like, maybe, I'm a _girl_ or something _nobody _could tell, like I'm wearing _jeans_—"

Zach decided to let those insults slide because she was clearly in a distressed state. Instead, he moved aside the hand that was clutching onto her shoulder and looked at what happened. The cloth of her shirt was torn, and in between the slippery red blood and broken skin, he could make out a small spattering of indents in her skin—bullet fragments.

So she had been shot. Wonderful.

"Please tell me that during your vile assassin education you learned basic medical care," she said, looking at him with wide eyes. There wasn't as much disgust in her voice as usual - an extremely bad sign. "Because while I do know how to perform the operation on myself it would be a very painful process."

They actually_ did_ have a small unit on basic medical care at Blackthorne, and most of the unit was about treating bullet wounds (apparently a lot of trained killers didn't know which side of the gun shot bullets out) but unfortunately, Zach had been ditching during most of that three-month period to hook up with a civilian girl named Katie.

Couldn't be that hard, right?

"Sit down on the chair," Zach ordered, steering her towards the kitchenette thing off to the side.

"You better not be bullshitting this," Cammie said shakily.

"Trust me, I'm not," Zach reassured her as he sat her down onto a chair.

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah. Speculate what you want. Now - as for updates. I've been working on a three-shot in which Zach's a football player and everyone is normal (stabbing clichés, yo), a one-shot in which the zombie apocalypse happens (no joke, yo) a few collabs (check it: **thedandylions**/the fluorescent adolescence, yo) and the next chapter for this story (I'll stop saying yo.)

Aaaaaand as I've said, I've been checking this site almost daily, at least every two days for the past few weeks as I get back into writing, and some of the awesome that drew me to this fandom in the first place is back! So can I just make a rec list right here for you, because I know everyone's been searching for some really good stories (yeah, I creep around a lot. Because I'm a creep. I'm a weeiiiirddooooo) Check it: (I'll stop saying that also.)

**The Art of Tomorrow and Things We'll Never Learn** by _commander in blue _ Basically, it's the next generation, but before you roll your eyes, it's THE SEXIEST GENERATION TO EVER BE WRITTEN OKAY. OKAY. SO READ IT. READ IT NOW. And you'll be surprised at the quality, and it's a completely unique take on the recycled plot line - not joking.

**Scene One, Take Four** by_ theycallherkaush _Well, obviously from the summary it's about Grant and Bex falling in love and Grant is a movie star and everything BUT THE MOST GOLDEN THING ABOUT THIS STORY IS CAMMIE'S CELL PHONE. His name is Pedro and Zach stole him. So, yeah, you need to read this._  
_

**Forbidden Plays** by_ RoyalInvaraeden _It's like Romeo and Juliet - the traditional kind. It's really nicely written.

**Crescendo** by_ finally-alive _One of the best stories in the archive, currently, and I have a pretentiously snobby taste in stories apparently (blame JK Rowling. My view on writing has never been the same.) Cammie and Zach are best friends except they're kinda opposites. Okay, I make it sound boring because I have like, a talent for that, but really, it's good.

**The Week of Living Wildly** by _newclassic _Well, this girl co-wrote 'The Art of Tomorrow and Things We'll Never Learn', and that's a pretty fucking awesome story, and the plot is like, hella unique and trendy and innovative and everything amazing.

Oh god, I keep rambling about everything. But I only have one more thing to say, I swear! (I say that a lot. But really. Only one more thing.) I've decided to do another challenge! I've seen a lot of challenges recently so I'll join the masses here and add my own challenge to um, the stirring pot. Um, that's not an expression. Yeah. Sorry.

**THE CHALLENGE **  
(maybe I'll name it. But I probably won't. I have an unbearable "lazy" complex)

Lots of stories here characterize certain characters, well, the same way. So let's go against the grain a little and do some_** role-reversal**_. Yeah. That's basically it. You know how Zach's always a bit of a manwhore? It's alright, I'm way guilty of that too. But perhaps making Cammie a bit promiscuous and having Zach fall head over heels for her? Or maybe, just for once, Cammie can be the better spy? Or she can smirk irritatingly throughout a story. You know. Stuff like that.

Yeah, that's pretty much it.

I swear I'll update soon.

Swear.

-Drey

PS. I got a formspring, yeah. It's Dreycula. The link is on my profile. So if you have any questions or something, you should ask me there because I check it more often, on my phone and everything. Okay. That's really all. Have a fun life, bro.


End file.
